


Prompt: 3am wake up call with reader

by voidbutcher



Category: voidghoul
Genre: Gen, The Void, hi im the void and this is what happens when im woken up, reader gets rekt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 14:03:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10743177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voidbutcher/pseuds/voidbutcher
Summary: hi im the void and i asked people so send me writing prompts bc i was procrastinating on art.this is one i did first. im p rusty though..





	Prompt: 3am wake up call with reader

**Author's Note:**

> luncrazed asked: I stumble into ur room at three am what happens

You stagger into the room thats not your own, the door creaking and wobbling as it grinds against the doorframe upon opening, to greet the owner. Who, is unaware of any visitor in his lair let alone his country, sleeps soundly in his bed. A rare sight for sure.

You take this moment to take in the room, before either abruptly and rudely awakening the beast in the bed and taking whatever wrath it has to give, or going to the spare room next door and waiting for the sun to rise. The room is a fair size. Each wall decorated in a poster or flag or some kind of trinket that to some would be meaningless but to the owner holds some sort of value. The only window is covered up with a thick floral sheet and the ledge under it holds miscellaneous items of all types.  
Additionally each wall has some sort of shelf up against it, then the bed, and to the close right of you around a corner is a chair and table.  
The room isnt exactly clean but it’s not messy enough to be gross.

The carpetted floor is stained with red and spots look like they’ve been whitened with bleach. Theres a symbol drawn on the wall, a circlular sigil of the one who dwells beneath, and under that on the table is the Satanic bible and at least eight candles and an incense burner. Various sketchbooks are sticking out of the infamous green backpack the Void keeps at his side at all times, and beside that on the floor are a pair of pyjama pants with cartoon skeletons printed on.

You step into the room to get a closer look.  
The fairy lights that ride up the wall and ceiling flicker on, filling the dark room with colour, but also shoving the dark matter into the corners. Compressed and now rounding the room unnaturally, cutting corners you look into the void and see something moving. Its scales, ?, just barely reflecting the colour but eating the light.  
The carpet flooring is now draining of colour, the speckled beige turns grey as red inky substances leak upward matching your height. The figure in the bed shifts just slightly, his snoring ceasing and instead breath comes out in soft puffs. His back is turned.  
The sigil on the wall bends and distorts and it makes a noise in your head like groaning wood, creaking and making you want to scratch it away but if you did it would not leave, the itch is inside. The door behind you ceases to exist and you can’t remember how you got here. You body feels the vibrations of the voids bass, thumping rhythmically like a slowing heartbeat. You feel like youre dissociating, or like something inside you is being pulled out. Your very energy is being taken from you and theres nothing you can do about it.

The figure in the bed is gone. He was never there. Was he? You can’t remember.

Suddenly blinking, thinking, and breathing becomes too much effort and you wonder how long you can last without doing any of it, but you cant stop. You’re so t i r e d.

The figure stands infront of you looking down. You sunk to the floor but you don’t remember feeling the embrace of the carpet around your knees. He stands looming over you, void black and nonexistant. A thousand eyes staring at you and you feel them. Each one you feel pulling the energy out of you, and you’re crying. Only just barely feeling your cheeks become wet, you didn’t notice the tears leaving your eyes or even pooling in your sockets. Your vision is blurred but you dont think its you. Everything is blurred, all reality is blurred and distorted.  
The Rumbling of the Void continues and it fills your ears. A low hum sings softly and if you close your eyes you can see it. You can see the humming, and two other pitches of the same hum chime in. It fills you with beautiful hysteria. You open your eyes again and the figures hands are hovering on either side of your head. He looks like he’s screaming at you, jaw unhinged or perhaps its just the blurred reality distorting him. You welcome it either way.  
This is your fate. You’ve tresspassed and committed a B&E. Your judgement is fair and you know it.  
And so you find yourself sitting , ? , in the vacuum of space, or anti-space. Where nothing exists, your face frozen in the beautiful hysteria you felt in that bedroom at 3am, the witching hour. Finding yourself for just a moment you blink and close your mouth, which cracks and you wonder how long you’ve been like that. Lowering your head you’re back infront of the closed white door in the house you’ve broken into, in the country you found your way to.  
The handle on the white door is dripping black paint. The house is quiet at 3:05am. You decide to wait until morning to say hello.


End file.
